by Richard Edde
***
A blazing sun was high overhead with only a few cumulus clouds floating near the horizon. The party trekking through the steppe was made up of four Americans with a Mongolian guide. The men were on horseback, leading a line of three smaller horses. The yellow-, green-, and straw-colored grasses stretched out before the small group like an ocean with only small rolling hills interrupting the flatness of the land. The narrow path that stretched out before them led them past small glades, over gnarled roots, and sometimes beside a small river.
It was quiet on the steppe. Nothing stirred, not even a small animal. Not a pheasant or marmot had they seen, or the gray wolf.
They stopped for a short rest at a green glade alongside a shallow river and drank the cold, clear water before continuing on their journey. The sun warmed their backs and they cheered the little gusts of wind that sprang up, bringing refreshing relief to the heat.
Doyle adjusted himself in the Mongolian saddle, attempting in vain to ease the aching in his legs and back. The saddle was a strange affair, wooden in construction, with the pommel and cantle raised high, which was supposed to stabilize the rider and protect him from forward and backward falls. Anyway, that was according to their guide, Gang Shun. Doyle’s assistant, Riley Gillum, had never been on a horse in his life, so mounting the animal had been a comedy of errors. Gillum had been unable to swing his leg over the tall cantle, forcing Gang to have to push the man’s leg over it. The smallness of the saddle and the short stirrups made riding awkward and unpleasant.
The five men wormed their way over the grassy plain, taking a short break now and then to dismount and stretch their legs. As the sunlight began to fade and the cool evening breeze picked up, they made camp for the night next to the small, fast-moving stream. Doyle and Gillum lay their saddles next to each other while the other men of the team, Kurt and Marley did likewise near where Gang was building a small fire in an antique metallic stove with a chimney. While Gang boiled water in a copper pot, in preparation for dinner, the team gathered near the stove and warmed themselves.
“Can you believe this place?” Gillum said. “It’s like being on another planet.”
“Like Mars,” Marley said, standing close to the small stove.
“This region of Mongolia has its own beauty,” Doyle said. “These nomads, however, are a bit backward.” He shot a glance toward Gang, hoping he was out of earshot.
Kurt laughed and pulled a jacket over his shoulders. “Gang said the nomads have been living like this for centuries. But they have yurts to sleep in. Going to get downright cold under the stars tonight.”
“Hope he packed warm sleeping bags,” Marley added, who lit a cigarette and watched the smoke drift skyward.
“Another night and we should be nearing the expedition site,” Doyle said, turning to Gang. “Hey, Gang, when will we see the mountains?”
Gang brought each of the men a large mug of steaming, thick, salted tea with milk and sat beside them on the heavy blanket spread over the ground.
“Tomorrow. You will see the Altai tomorrow afternoon.”
Kurt frowned at his mug. “What is this stuff?”
“Traditional Mongolian salty tea. We call it suutei tsai, which means milk tea. It is one of the most common drinks in Mongolia. Do you like it, Mr. Kurt?”
“Make mine without salt next time, Gang,” Kurt said, casting an angry look at their guide.
Gang returned to his stove and stirred the copper pot.
“What’s for supper?” Kurt asked. “At least that’s starting to smell good.”
“A nomad specialty, Mr. Kurt. Boiled dried mutton with vegetables and noodles. You will like.” Gang went back to stirring his pot.
Marley, the quiet team member, stood and walked over to where Gang was working. He watched silently while Gang added some spices to the bubbling concoction.
“Once we are at the research site, boss, what then?” Kurt asked.
“Eastwood wants us to surveil them from a distance. See if we can determine if they have found anything of significance. Once we have determined that, I’ll give him a call and learn what our next moves are. Ultimately, we are going to find this Dr. Olson and grab whatever it is he has discovered. Eastwood tells me it is momentous.”
“Kill him?” Kurt said. “The doctor, I mean.”
“Kill everyone. Leave no witnesses, Kurt.”
Marley had returned to the group and had been listening. “Including Gang?” he asked, pointing a thumb at their guide.
“We won’t need him to get back,” Doyle said, smiling. “So yes, him too.”
“Listen, Ben, I came on this little excursion for one reason, fun and excitement. If we don’t blast these bastards to kingdom come, I’m going to be really pissed.” Kurt’s tone had turned sour.
“All in due time, my friend, all in due time,” Doyle said, patting his eager team member on the shoulder.
Gang handed each man a wooden bowl filled with a thick, pungent broth in which chunks of meat were immersed. As the men ate, the conversation turned to the nomadic way of life in Mongolia. Doyle listened half-heartedly, his mind on their mission, as Gang talked.
“I have heard,” Gillum said, “that Mongolian pastoral herders make up one of the world’s last remaining nomadic cultures.”
Gang smiled. “Yes, for many, many years they have lived on the steppes, grazing their livestock on the lush grasslands. But, today, their traditional way of life is at risk.”
Doyle spooned chunks of meat into his mouth and swallowed. “How so?”
“Everything is changing in Mongolia,” Gang said. “Our economy, our climate, even our deserts are disappearing. And they threaten our nomadic way of life. The herds and grazing lands die. The harsh winters and poor pastures have caused herders to seek employment in mining towns and urban areas.”
“Sounds dire.”
“Most herders, who stay on the steppe, want their children to have an education and get jobs in the cities, believing that our way of life is no longer an option.”
“I can’t believe anyone would choose to live out here,” Kurt said, slurping his noodles.
“The Mongolian pastoral nomads rely on their animals for survival and move their habitat several times a year in search of water and grass for their herds. Their lifestyle is precarious, as their constant migrations prevent them from transporting reserves of food or other necessities. Rarely having the luxury of surpluses to tide them through difficult times, they are extremely vulnerable to the elements. Heavy snows, ice, and droughts jeopardize their flocks and herds and heighten their sense of fragility.”
Overhead the Milky Way extended from horizon to horizon. There was no moon so the millions of stars formed a broad ribbon in the sky.
“So why do they continue in this outmoded way of life?” Kurt asked, shaking his head at Gang’s description.
“It is all they know, Mr. Kurt,” Gang said through mouthfuls of the stew. “It has been a way of life for their families for many generations. But these days, many children of nomadic families attend school in the cities and live with their parents during the summer months. The nomad numbers here in the Altai Basin are dwindling.”
“I can see why,” said Kurt. “There’s nothing to do way out here.”
“Ah, but Mr. Kurt, that is the beauty of it.”
Gang finished his stew, stood, and patted Kurt’s shoulder on the way to his stove.
“Kurt, my friend,” Doyle said as he gave a hearty laugh. “I guess you will never make a nomad. No matter how hard Gang tries.”
Chapter 11
Li had the camels loaded, and Harry, Dixie, and Jing were ready to climb aboard the horses for the trek to the Tenduk monastery. Harry gave last-minute instructions concerning security to Cheng, who was being left in charge of the site. Dixie and Jing chatted idly until Harry was finished, then the group mounted and headed west with the snow-peaked Altai shimmering in the distance.
Sure-footed horses were a neces
sity in the mountains and Harry hoped that his horse, named Mouse, would deliver him safely, as he had originally delivered him to the research site. Growing up in a large city never afforded Harry the opportunity to become comfortable with animals of any kind, especially horses. He always viewed them as unpredictable creatures, not one of the smarter barnyard animals, one that could inflict injury at any moment. After climbing aboard Mouse, the first hour had been spent worrying when the animal was going to take off across the barren steppe with him holding on for dear life. But as the day progressed and Mouse plodded along without incident, Harry settled into the saddle, relaxed, and marveled at the vistas surrounding them.
Jing led them along a narrow path, first through the level grassy lowlands, then gradually climbing the narrow ridges that formed the Altai foothills. In this arid region, drought-resistant feather grasses and sheep fescue dominated the landscape and provided much-needed fodder for the yaks and other animals raised by the nomadic families that moved throughout the steppe. The Altai represented the northern most region affected by the tectonic collision of India into Asia. Massive fault systems ran through the area, including the Kurai fault zone and the recently identified Tashanta fault zone. Although seismic activity was generally a rare occurrence, a massive earthquake had occurred in the Chuya Basin area to the south of the Altai region in 2003. This earthquake and its aftershocks had devastated much of the region and wiped out an entire village.
Leaving the banks of the river behind as they continued upward, Harry realized the Altai were some of the highest and remotest mountains in the world. The mountain valleys were forested with spruce, fir, and pine, interspersed with grassy meadows. As they ascended, the pine and fir trees gave way to aspen, birch, and finally larch and dwarf conifers. Stands of those trees were part of a mosaic landscape that also included meadows with an alpine component. Jing had told them that many varieties of deer populated the valleys and mountain goats, sheep, and yaks grazed the open areas.
The mountains, divided by several river valleys, formed a great variety of landscapes. There were hollows with semi-desert landscapes, alpine peaks, narrow river canyons, broad valleys, highland tundra, deep limestone gorges, open steppes, permanent snow and glaciers, and tracts of forest, as well as lakes, wild rivers, and waterfalls. Nearing the break for lunch, the group passed through a burned forest and traversed a transparent turquoise river that flowed from a towering waterfall. As they followed its snaking shoreline, the roar of the falls grew dimmer until, when they arrived at a small grassy meadow surrounded by high rock walls, its sound was only a soft murmur. Here, Jing called a halt for a quick rest and food.
“Up there,” she said, pointing at a rock knoll to the northwest, “we will cross the first pass. The going gets more difficult after that.”
Harry, glad to be off his horse and on firm soil, walked about, easing the ache in his knees. The camels immediately folded their legs and plopped to the ground, groaning.
“How many passes to the monastery, Jing?” he said.
“Three. And each one gets narrower as we ascend. There may still be a little snow on the ground at Tenduk. You’ll be glad you have the deels I provided.”
After a quick meal of beef jerky and bottled water, the small band continued on their journey. The trail became a serpentine line ahead of them, winding along a precipitous ridge overlooking a deep green gorge. Massive granite boulders with jagged outcroppings glistened with quartz and jasper. The Mongolian steppe was a treeless land, harboring, at most, squat bushes and low-growing junipers. But in the higher elevations, Harry noticed, sparse vegetation had given way to tundra grasses sprouting in sporadic locations among the rocks. Dominant tundra groundcover in the Altai were mosses and fungi, as well as small numbers of vascular plants well-adapted to this extreme environment. How the fragile ecosystem flourished up here was a mystery to him. Now and then, he shot a furtive glance down the deep gorge and prayed Mouse would keep steady footing.
Later that evening, the group gathered around the portable stove and sipped the tea Jing had brewed. The sky had turned overcast with low dark storm clouds swirling overhead. A cold wind surged down from the icy peaks, dull gray in the distance. Harry pulled his deel tighter around his neck.
“So what about these mountain wild men, Jing. Any hopes of catching a glimpse of one?”
Jing laughed. “I doubt it, Dr. Olson.” She shot a glance at Li and shook her head.
“What about them?” Dixie asked, as if cued by Jing. “I have heard a few stories by the camp workers.”
“Wild men, Almas, Yetis--they are all the same creature. Different people call them by different names. My uncle claims to have seen one and he retold the story many times. One evening at dusk, he was walking in the mountains when he heard a strange noise. The source of the commotion ahead of him was a humanoid figure, wandering about in an upright fashion, pausing to tug on dwarf rhododendron bushes as it passed. The creature’s dark figure was in stark contrast to the white snow and it was easily distinguishable. It wore no clothes. The beast moved into some thick shrub and disappeared before my uncle could get a closer look at it. He followed its tracks for a while, until they became illegible in the snow, then he returned home. We children heard this story so many times, we could repeat it from memory.
“But across the Altai, the Yeti has been seen as real, known for generations in a half-dozen countries from Tibet to Mongolia. It is a region flush with wildlife, where tigers, bears and wild dogs roam thick mountain forests and remote river valleys. Here, if nowhere else, the Yeti was always simply one more creature.”
“You have never seen one?” Dixie asked.
“No. I have never seen the tracks of one, either.”
“What do they supposedly look like?” Dixie said, obviously intrigued by Jing’s tale.
“The Almas are reputed to be six-foot tall, upright creatures, covered in reddish brown fur, with human-like facial features, including pronounced brow ridges, flat noses, no chin. And, unlike the Himalayan Yeti, their behavior is considered far more human than ape-like. They reportedly inhabit the mountains of central Asia and the Altai Mountains of southern Mongolia. Modern accounts documenting footprints, as well as native traditions dating back hundreds of years, attest to the existence of the Almas, including the exchange of trade goods between remote Mongolian villages and Almas.”
“It’s hard to believe that people actually traded with the creatures,” Harry said, a smirk now appearing on his face.
Jing continued without addressing Harry’s comment. “In 1953, Sir Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa reported seeing large footprints while scaling Mount Everest. Hillary would later discount Yeti reports as unreliable. In his first autobiography, the Sherpa said that he believed the Yeti was a large ape and, although he had never seen it himself, his father had seen one twice. But in his second autobiography he said he had become much more skeptical about its existence.
“At one time, your American government thought the existence of the Yeti likely. One theory is that the Alma is a remnant human species such as the Neanderthal. To date no conclusive evidence for the existence of the creature has been found.”
“But you have never seen one?” asked Harry.
“Again, no. I don’t believe they exist. But when we get to Tenduk, you will meet people who have seen the Yeti and know they exist. Maybe you can speak with some of them.”
***
The next morning, the group continued onward and upward. As they climbed higher, Harry began to feel the effects of the thin air. Riding side-by-side, Jing and Li appeared not to be suffering in the slightest, as they laughed and chatted with each other. All during the morning, the sky remained overcast and the wind that stung their faces blew sleet a few times. Harry worried that the clouds threatened frank snow but, by afternoon, the sky cleared and a warm sun greeted them.
Dixie’s cry pierced the mountain quiet. “Help!”
Harry jerked in his saddle, his eyes searching in
the direction of Dixie’s plea. She was nowhere to be seen and her horse galloped, saddle empty, ahead of the group. He yanked hard on the reins and spurred Mouse to where he had last seen Dixie. Jing and Li followed at a gallop.
Harry reined to a stop at the edge of a sheer precipice and gazed over the drop-off. There, clinging to a rock outcropping, hung Dixie, her eyes wide. He jumped to the ground.
“Help, Harry. My horse spooked and threw me. Hurry! I only have one foot on a small ledge.”
“Hold on, Dixie,” Harry said. Far below her, he could see a river pounding along. “Stay calm!”
Jing and Li vaulted from their saddles and rushed to the edge of the cliff. Then Li ran to a nearby camel. “I’ve got a rope,” he cried. “We’ll get her up.”
He returned with a coil of rope. Harry took one end and fashioned a bowline around his waist. “Tie the other end to a saddle,” he said to Li in a voice that betrayed fear. “I’ll go down and get her. You can have the horse pull us up. Understand?”
Li nodded and did as Harry commanded. As soon as the rope was attached to the saddle, Harry took a deep breath and started over the edge.
“Be careful,” Jing said. “These rocks are jagged and sharp.”
Harry’s heart pounded as he began the descent to Dixie. He noticed her hair was a tussled mess, there were scrapes on her face and neck, and the leg that was perched on a small ledge was trembling. Her eyes darted between him and Li who was peering at them from above. Harry could hear her whimpering as he picked his way slowly down over the rocks.
“Hold on, Dixie. I’m coming,” he said, trying to calm the fear in his voice.
If Dixie fell before he could reach her, it would mean her certain death. His temples pounded and sweat burned his eyes but he fought to keep himself under control and continued to maneuver his way to where she clung to the cliff. The rocks were jagged and sharp and several times an edge nicked his hands as he wormed his way down the gorge. His boots were a bit large for the cracks he used for support, causing the muscles in his calves to start burning. He searched for handholds and inched downward, all the while praying Dixie could hold out until he reached her.